


Inner Depths

by henghost



Category: ITZY (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-09-29 23:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henghost/pseuds/henghost
Summary: Yeji makes the mistake of looking where she knows she shouldn't, and Pandora's Box opens.





	1. Chapter 1

Look, in general I’m not a nosy person, but on days like these, when I’m the only one at the dorm, the boredom gets so oppressive. I read or watch TV or cook or sleep for as long as I can, which is never very long. 

So I’m not proud of it, but sometimes I cave in and rifle through my members’ stuff. And let me tell you: you can learn a lot about someone by looking through the possessions they don’t feel comfortable putting on display. The things they hide in drawers and coves and niches. 

For example, Chaeryeong has a collection of stuffed animals so large it’s bordering on unhealthy. I had no idea. I opened her closet, and nearly suffocated under the tsunami that knocked me over. It took me the better part of an hour to put them all back.

I resisted going through Ryujin’s stuff for as long as I could. She’d be the most pissed if she found me going through her things--easily. She’s really a very private person. Not exactly shy, but quiet. And that’s so rare among our demographic as to be fascinating--at least, I find her fascinating.

And, listen, okay, I’ve never had the strongest will when it comes to things like that. So I think it was probably inevitable that I was going to look in her stuff eventually. It was, in fact, her devotion to secrecy that made such a prospect so tantalizing.

Here’s what she had in her drawer: (1) a bottle of sleeping pills (something called “Zolpidem”), (2) a fairly explicit poem on a folded shred of paper, and (3) something pink and plastic that buzzed when I flicked a switch.

This is the poem:

_ I yearn to plumb your inner depths _

_ With tongue and lips and flesh and more. _

_ I want to tear that silken mesh, _

_ That wall that holds the waves from shore. _

_ Your curling locks of sable hair _

_ Enthrall me like no other girl’s; _

_ A beauty that is diamond-rare… _

_ The stunning gifts that make me yours… _

The bottom of the paper looked torn, so it might’ve gone on longer, too. And it was maybe a little melodramatic for my tastes, but it was undeniably sensual. I wondered who wrote it for her. Someone definitely had.

I wondered also if the vibrating thing--which was sort of more ellipsoid than phallic, in case you were wondering--and the poem were meant to be used in tandem.

Sitting with my arms around my knees on the floor, I got so caught up in thinking about my potential responses that I had to rush to put it all back when I heard someone open the door. 

I decided to keep my mouth shut. At least for the moment.

#

I couldn’t sleep that night. I thought more and more about the implications of my discoveries, my thoughts roiling like steam in my head. Was she seeing someone? Well, presumably she was. But in what capacity? To what extent? How far had they gone?

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Worse, she wasn’t there in the room with me, although she definitely should’ve been--it was past midnight, and midnight was technically our curfew.

I imagined her locked in intimacy with a person made of flickering static, grey and glowing, embracing her and biting the lobe of her ear and sucking on her neck, moving down down down with his/her/their mouth and hands and--

I forced myself to stop thinking about it.

The door opened, Ryujin walked in, and I pretended to be asleep. She plugged in her phone next to mine, then took off her clothes and scaled the ladder to her top bunk. It was all I could do to keep from screaming at her.

The room got brighter, like someone had turned their phones on. But I could see both our phones. Did she have another? She whispered something that I couldn’t make out, then giggled. The room returned to its blackened state, and I heard her head hit the pillow.

I don’t remember how, but I must’ve fallen asleep.

#

The mornings in our dorm remind me of a hurricane. There’s five of us, each with our own unique (and extensive) hygienal needs. And there’s one bathroom. It’s a mad dash to squeeze yourself in before the others. There’s shoving and pushing and occasional crying. I prefer to go last.

When I woke, I caught Ryujin in the corner of my eye, standing at the dresser, choosing her outfit. Semi-nude, I could see the soft--but really less soft than you might imagine--curves of her body, and I felt something in my chest.

She turned to look at me, and I closed my eyes. 

When the younger ones left for school and Jisu went off to her “pilates class” — I have serious doubts about whether it’s actually pilates — I rolled out of bed and tugged pajamas on, my eyes puffy from lack of sleep. 

That feeling in my chest was still there, and it didn’t go away when I ate breakfast or when I tried (and failed) to pay attention to something on TV. Like a splinter in my heart.

I opened Ryujin’s drawer and ran my fingers over its contents. I picked up the scrap of paper and brought it to my nose. It smelled faintly of fancy perfume. Not anything I knew she wore. 

Then I grabbed the pink plastic device shaped like an American football. It smelled sweet and acidic. The splinter in my chest became more like razor-wire all throughout my ribs, creeping down into my midsection and lower. 

I flicked the switch, and it fluttered to life, humming like a swarm of insects.

I slid down my pajamas and my underwear and pushed the buzzing bulb against my crotch--just for a moment. I looked at it again, and it shone with fluids. My heart raced and I bit the inside of my cheek. I put it back against my (swollen) labia and moved it up and down and up and down, faster than I meant. Soft and sticky.

Absurd images played in front of me: Ryujin in her school uniform, the grey humanoid pressing her against a wall of lockers, and Ryujin’s face frozen in an expression of pure ecstasy. Her legs lifted up and on either side of the grey-person, casual sneakers right in my face. Her pink hair sticking up at odd angles, her skirt hiked way up.

Pressure was threatening to explode from deep within me, and I wanted to let it. I wanted this vicarious exchange of pleasure. 

I came, and with each convulsion, I felt like I was sort of  _ inside  _ the gray person.

Then I looked up, and there was Ryujin, her face ruddy. I hadn’t heard the door open. She burst into laughter while I yanked my clothes back on.

“Oh my god, Yeji,” she said between bursts of giggles. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to--oh my god.”

“Fucking knock next time,” I said.

“It’s my room too.”

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Forgot something.”

“What? Your poetry assignment?”

“My... Oh, shit, wait, hold on, is that my...”

“...”

“Suddenly I don’t feel so bad for barging in on you.”

I shrugged.

“Give it back.”

“You don’t want me to wash it first?”

“My fucking  _ poem,  _ Yeji.”

“What poem?”

“I’m seriously going to kill you. If you touched it I--”

“Woah! Where’d this anger come from?”

“You went through my shit.”

“You’re more worried about a scrap of paper than your... whatever this is.”

“So you  _ do  _ know about the poem.”

“I saw  _ a  _ poem. I wasn’t sure if it was the one you were talking about.”

“If you touched it I swear to god...”

“Why are you so worried about if I touched it or not? Don’t want its scent erased?”

“You’re not normally this much of a bitch, Yeji.”

“It’s a coping mechanism.”

She opened her drawer, withdrew the paper, unfolded it, smoothed it out, and sighed.

“Who wrote it for you?” I asked.

“Who... I wrote it. Of course I wrote it. Who else would have written it?”

“It doesn’t smell like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean? You smelled it?”

“You don’t wear that kind of perfume. It’s too, I don’t know, feminine for you.”

“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“:Just teasing you,” I said with my lips pressed together.

“I don’t know, Yeji, you sound kind of jealous. Are you jealous?”

“Of what? Your skill with the pen? Because I gotta say, it was a little, like, unsubtle, for my tastes.”

“You read it?”

“Well... yeah.”

“...It wasn’t meant for you.”

“Then who was it meant for? You?”

“It doesn’t matter. Can’t I have my secrets?”

“What about this then,” I said, holding up the still-wet pink plastic.

“You seem to know perfectly well the function of that device.”

“But why do you have it?”

“Well, Yeji, I’m prone--like everyone my age--to  _ urges. _ ”

“Urges?”

“Yeah, urges. It’s called a libido. And due to the nature of our chosen vocation, I don’t exactly get many chances to deal with them..”

“You get harder to understand when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’re shaking.”

She looked at her hands, which were trembling.

“Who wrote that poem?” I asked.

“It’s really none of your business.”

“I mean, you’re right. It’s not. I guess I just thought we were, you know, like, pretty close. I’m not, like, going to tell on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She sighed. “Have you ever, you know, been with someone?”

“That can mean a lot of different things.”

“Like a relationship. A romance.”

“Can’t say I have, at least not since I became eleven.”

“Really?”

“I’ve been pretty busy. So have you.”

“There’s this guy at school.”

“A guy?”

“Yeah. He’s the one who wrote it. The poem.”

“Oh. Is this… a romance?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Of course.”

“But yes.”

“Oh wow… And how far along is it.”

“Like, what base have we gotten to?”

“In so many words.”

“Pretty far.”

I swallowed and tried to feel happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeji picks up a bad habit, then gets to know new people.

Our room was totally devoid of light, and the blackness was like an extra blanket. A soft gauze over the eyes. “Can you, uh, tell me more?” I said.

Like a spectre above me, Ryujin responded, “Isn’t it kind of uncool to kiss and tell?”

“We’re all adults here.”

“That’s debatable. And no, I won’t tell you more. If only out of spite. I’m still angry, and I need to sleep. So good night.”

“Good night.”

My eyes were neither open nor closed. It took a few moments for Ryujin’s light but persistent snoring to begin, and when it did, it felt like a weight had been lifted. No one knew I was there, not even me.

Sleep was far, far away. 

This discovery of Ryujin’s romantic inclinations represented a total paradigm shift. My world was unrecognizable from the world I’d woken up in that morning, and whether that was good or bad remained to be seen. All I knew was: that shard in my chest was still there, catching me off-guard with every breath. 

Images swam in the inky dark. Those of Ryujin spasming and convulsing around a staticky-gray person — that is, a gray  _ man _ . Which was a little jarring. The image of Ryujin with something masculine seemed wrong.

Still, that shard was descending through my body all the same, reaching down through my midsection and into my core. If I was quiet enough, she wouldn’t wake up, right?

My hand slid down underneath the thin silk of my underwear, as if by its own accord. This amount of self-pleasure in one day was uncharacteristic. 

I was reminded of how I’d yelled at Yuna a week or so ago for taking too long in the shower, and she’d said she’d been “distracted by the shower head,” which took me a second to understand, and when I did, she’d already closed the door to her room, and I was too embarrassed to ask about it later. 

What I mean is, I never experienced that pubescent overload of desire. I was embarrassed by Yuna’s comment not because of what she’d been doing, but because I had never done the same. Not that I’d never masturbated at all. But it was rare, and never because I was “too horny to think,” as I’ve heard people say. Mostly it was when I couldn’t sleep.

But now it would be twice in a day. A paradigm shift. 

My middle finger discovered the wetness at my center.

Once, I asked one of my male friends at school what it was like for guys, in terms of desire and sexuality and relief. He kind of blushed and put his face in his hands and muttered something I couldn’t make out, so I pushed and made him tell me, and he said it sometimes got to the point — with him, at least — where it was all he could think about, and “jacking off” (this was his terminology; I kind of think that’s a crass way of putting it) barely made a dent. That was when I decided men and women were fundamentally different creatures. 

But as a jolt of pleasure ran up through me, I realized how wrong I had been. My back arched and my muscles tensed and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from waking Ryujin. It was like a dam had been removed somewhere inside me, allowing a river of pulsing energy to flow. 

And now I was soaked.

A couple minutes after I came, Ryujin climbed down from her bed and left.

#

The next few days passed without incident, or at least the only incident was an escalation of my “behaviors.” I wasn’t bored being home alone anymore. It got up to three or four times a day — my self-pleasure — all within a seven hour period.

As for Ryujin, she never mentioned where she went that night, and I never asked. I was too afraid she’d say something to the effect of, “I couldn’t stand how pathetic and perverted you are, Yeji! I had to escape!”

I also read her poem again and again during those long, lazy days, and it never failed to arouse, even as I felt more and more that it was wrong. That it shouldn’t exist. Its presence meant the lack of hers.

Its nebulous author — the grey man — was an ever-looming figure in my head. He glared at me in my post-orgasmic comfort.

I hated him.

#

One night, when we were alone in the living room with the TV on, Ryujin said, “You wanna come to dinner with me and Hyo-jin?”

I was going to ask who that was, but then it clicked.

“Um, just me or…?”

“Just you. I don’t trust the others with that kind of knowledge.”

“I’m… flattered?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Love to.”

“Cool. Tomorrow at like seven?”

“Let’s do it.”

#

I couldn’t sit still on the train. I asked Ryujin, “Um, he lives close, right?”

“Pretty close.”

“And does he live on his own or…?”

“Yeah. He’s got his own place.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“I guess so. He’s older than me.”

“How much?”

“He’s twenty.”

“Okay. And is he cooking for us?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Well-rounded, huh?”

“I guess so,” she said.

I squeezed my thumbs.

He lived in a single-bedroom third floor apartment a little outside Seoul-proper, which was so clean as to make me suspicious. The bed was made with military neatness, the living room furniture was arranged with precision, and the small table was set with a long red tablecloth and a single candle in the center. 

He greeted us with an apron on. Tall, a crop of stubble across his cheeks, bushy eyebrows, well-built, well-proportioned. I swallowed as we bowed to each other.

He said, “Oh my god, I can’t believe it. Hwang Yeji in my apartment? My tiny little apartment? I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, ha ha. I’m flattered,” I said.

“Big fan,” he said. “Which is really kind of an understatement. I’m like shaking right now.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You’re so kind.”

“Um, sit wherever you want. I’ll get some drinks.”

I sat at the dinner table, and Ryujin joined me. I whispered in her ear, “This is so, like,  _ adult.  _ It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Classy, isn’t it?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

He put a bottle of wine and three long-stemmed glasses on the table, and for a moment I thought about saying I wasn’t old enough to drink, but didn’t go through with it. He poured the wine then sat across from me, kissing Ryujin’s head on the way. I felt my stomach tense and reached for my glass. The wine was as red as blood. Sour.

“Seriously,” he said, “I can’t believe it. Not one but  _ two  _ ITZY members in my tiny little cheap apartment? I wonder who I was in a past life to deserve this!”

“So, um, how did you guys meet?” I asked. 

Ryujin shot him a glance, frowning. He didn’t seem to notice. “It’s kind of a funny story,” he said. “We met at a fan signing event.”

My eyes widened. “At, like,  _ our  _ fan signing event? ITZY’s?”

“Yeah. Crazy, right? I’ve been a _ massive  _ fan of you all’s since even before your debut.” Ryujin was staring at the floor.

“Wow,” I said. “That’s… unprecedented.”

“Ha ha, you could say that. I really don’t know what she saw in me. What she  _ sees  _ in me. I like to think it was my poem.”

“What poem?”

“Just, like, a cheesy love poem. I’m sure she gets hundreds a day.” She shook her head. “No? Well, I guess that’s why, then. Ha ha. I gave it to her when she signed my album, and she came and found me after the event, and, well, the rest is history.”

Ryujin took a long sip of wine.

#

After dinner we moved to the living room. Ryujin sat in Hyo-jin’s lap in a big plush armchair, and I curled my legs up under me on the couch across from them. His hand caressed and pawed and pulled. 

I was on my third glass of wine.

Her lacy, neon-pink hair danced in my vision. Her face had hardly moved all evening. We sat in silence for a long time.

At a certain point, Hyo-jin’s eyes flickered and closed. His breathing steadied, yet his hand, as if autonomous, continued to pet her.

I said, “Is it strange to have a fan as a… lover?”

“It’s… nice,” she said.

“Really? I mean, if I’m being one-hundred percent honest, you don’t look very happy. You haven’t this whole time.”

“It’s more embarrassing than I thought it would be.”

“Why are you embarrassed?”

“Because I can tell what you’re thinking.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You think I’m being manipulative, or… that I asked Hyo-jin out because it’d be easy, you know, to get with him.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“You’re lying.” 

“I’m just worried you aren’t happy, is all. It doesn’t look like a — what’s the word? — equitable relationship.”

“Maybe. But there are nice things. The sex is good, for one.”

I felt heat rise to my face.

“It’s nice to be someone’s dream girl,” she said.

As if on cue, Hyo-jin grew erect, the tip of his penis straining against the bright blue denim of his jeans. We paused and stared at it for a moment. I wondered idly if under his pants it wasn’t stiff and fleshy and organic but instead made of that flickering static.

Ryujin stood up, removing his hand from her head in the process, laying it on his chest with a perfect delicacy. 

“Are you jealous?” she asked passively. 

“Not of you,” I said. Was that true?

“Meaning you  _ are  _ jealous of someone?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m exhausted.”

“Me too,” she said, and she lay on the floor. “Do you think we’d get in trouble if we slept here?”

“Hasn’t stopped you in the past,” I said.

“Yeah, but if  _ you  _ weren’t there, that might, you know, cause a stir.”

“I don’t think I could stand traveling back.”

“Me neither.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “Good night.”

I closed my eyes, but it was only superficial. My heart thrummed with energy. I again felt as if a weight had been lifted, now that I was the only one conscious. I looked down at Ryujin, her hair spread out around her like a halo, her skirt limp and misshapen around her legs. Her snoring began, louder than normal.

My hand slid down between my legs, brushing against my most sensitive anatomy. If I was quiet, no one would know. 

I unzipped my pants and pawed at my crotch, which was damp, then I stood up, walked over to Ryujin, knelt down — my pants halfway down my thighs by now — and sniffed at her.

I lay beside her so that our heads were an inch apart. I could smell her shampoo and the faint scent of alcohol that lingered on her lips — both just as intoxicating. My middle finger slipped between my own (lower) lips, and my palm rubbed against my clitoris. 

I bit my tongue — even heavy breath could wake her when I was so near — then looked up at Hyo-jin, whose pants now had a dark patch at the crotch. This fact increased my ferocity. 

When I came, I kissed her cheek. She stirred.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontations.

I woke up on the floor and felt the lack of warmth immediately. Ryujin was no longer beside me. I stood up, bent my back (which cracked and burned), and tried to smooth down my hair. I felt bloated and puffed.

I found them tangled up together like the snakes on a caduceus, limbs knotted Gordianly. The blanket was positioned so that I could see Ryujin’s bare breast. I swallowed. Was I really just a voyeur? Pathetic and perverted? Degenerate and deranged? Probably all of the above, I decided. 

My vision still hazy from sleep and dissipating dreams, I groped around looking for Hyo-jin’s bathroom. I wanted to sit in the shower and cry. 

It was small and dingy when I finally found it, with worrying spots of green hiding in the grout. Did Ryujin spend much time in here? To refresh after a vigorous bout of lovemaking? Was that her toothbrush on the counter?

I opened the medicine cabinet. If I really looked feline, would this curiosity kill me?

Contained within the cabinet were pill bottles — too many to count. Their labels swam in my vision, dizzying. I only recognized one: that same label as the sleeping pills in her secret drawer. “Zolpidem”. Was she some kind of insomniac?

There was a knock on the door.

“Occupied,” I said.

“It’s me,” said Ryujin. 

“I’m in the shower.” 

“The water’s not even running.”

“I  _ will  _ be in the shower.”

“I just need to grab something.”

I stood up and opened the door. I would never be free of hectic morning routines, it seemed. At least she’d put on a t-shirt.

She closed the door behind her. “Okay, that was a lie,” she said. “I don’t have to grab anything. I just wanted to talk to you. You know, privately.”

“Oh. Okay. Is this, uh, really the most appropriate venue, though?” That familiar chink in my breathing had returned.

“I like it in here. It’s snug and damp.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“You woke me up last night.”

“...Um. How?”

“I think you know how.”

I swallowed. “Oh. Um, listen, it’s—”

“It’s fine, Yeji. Hey, do you mind if I grab a quick shower? It’s like I can feel the salt on my skin, and I think not all of it’s mine.”

“Uh, go ahead, I’ll just step out for a second.”

“No, stay. We have to talk.”

“Oh, but, don’t you, uh, want some…”

“Privacy? I don’t really care,” she said, and she pulled the t-shirt over her head — nothing beneath. I turned away, but the mirror was too large. Everywhere I looked, there she was. Pale and nude and smooth. 

The shower was in a little cubicle, and Ryujin fiddled with its myriad knobs while I covered my eyes. She stepped inside once satisfied with the temperature and pulled the curtain closed. 

“Sorry for waking you up,” I said. “It was — it didn’t have anything to do with you, if that’s what you’re thinking. What I was doing, I mean. I was just—”

“It’s fine, I promise.”

“Um, okay. Then what is it you wanted to talk about?” I asked, and I sat on the toilet, which was across from the shower. The curtain was opaque enough I didn’t see a silhouette — thank God. Still though, it was difficult not to imagine what she was doing in there. Soap and suds and lathering. 

“Well, listen, it  _ is _ fine. Really. I promise it is. And I’m not mad. But I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and you were passed out next to me, and you smelled like, well, sex. So I can only assume that you were, uh, masturbating. Which, I don’t judge. But you were right next to me, and so therefore I can’t help but wonder…?”

“Wonder what?”

“Well, if  _ I  _ was involved somehow.”

“If you — no. I mean, no. No.” Steam billowed from around the shower curtain, and with it came the subtle scent of Ryujin. It wafted around me, crept inside me. I crossed one leg over the other and covered my nose and tried to think straight.

“Are you sure? Because I remember I had some vivid dreams. And I woke up, like, very horny. I mean, really horny. Like, Hyo-jin had to put stuff in my mouth to stop the screaming.”

There was a building pressure down throughout my abdomen and thighs and vagina, and the splinter in my chest had tripled in size, which made my breath ragged and strained. I squirmed on the toilet seat. 

The Ryujin-steam continued to flow. It filled the bathroom, and soon enough, I couldn’t see my hand a foot in front of me. A valve needed to open somewhere within me or else I would explode. 

Water hammered ceramic. 

“Do you remember a couple nights ago?” she asked. “When I left in the middle of the night? It was sort of the same thing. I came here and Hyo-jin and I… well, you probably don’t want to hear about it.” Her voice echoed, as if it was coming from a deep pit. And, slowly, I was rising away from its influence.

I was in a world of my own. 

In a frenzy, I tugged away the obstacles that stood between me and relief. My hand plunged down into my own pit. Each of Ryujin’s words — which seemed so far away — painted a thousand moving pictures. Ample encouragement.

“Unless,” she said. “Unless that’s what you want to hear. Is it? A graphic description? Ha ha. I know you’re jealous, Yeji. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know I’ve been jealous of you plenty of times. Or maybe jealousy isn’t the right word. Ha ha ha.”

The water switched off, and I nearly fell over in my mad scramble to return to decency. 

She stepped out of the shower, dripping, and I noticed there wasn’t a towel in sight. “So what I’m trying to say, Yeji,” she said, “is that you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. And now that you have another secret of mine, I just want us to be able to communicate.”

I sat on my hands to keep from lunging on her. “Sure,” I said. “Communication.”

“Great. Let’s avoid any more secrets.”

“Sounds good,” I said. 

I watched her walk away.

#

The ITZY dorm, when we returned, looked like the scene of an intervention. Jisu and Yuna and Chaeryeong sat in the foyer — all wore stony faces.

“We need to talk,” said Jisu.

“...Uh, what about?” said Ryujin.

“What do you fucking think?” said Yuna. Her face was red, and her cheeks were tear-streaked.

“We were just at a friend’s house. Why are you so upset?” said Ryujin.

“That’s bullshit,” said Yuna. “You fucking whore.  _ Whores  _ plural.”

“What do you think is happening, Yuna?” I said.

“You’re slutting around,” said Yuna. “Putting  _ our  _ livelihood at risk. And don’t even get me fucking started on what the — you know what? I can’t. I really can’t right now.” She stood and strutted out of the room.

“She’s upset,” said Jisu.

“Didn’t notice,” said Ryujin.

“But we do need to talk.”

“I genuinely don’t understand what the problem is.”

“Really? You don’t think we’d have a problem with the sneaking out and the secret dalliances?”

“Dalliances?”

“Romeo and Juliet forbiden love fuck-buddy type affairs.”  
“Listen, Jisu, I don’t know what you think is going on—”

“Quit treating us like we can’t hope to hold a candle to your massive intellect, Ryujin,” said Chaeryeong. “You’re not as stealthy as you think. We know about this Hyo-jin guy. We saw the pictures.”

“You took my  _ phone _ ? Jesus fucking Christ. Orwell couldn’t have even imagined what living here is like.”

“It’s a lot more nuanced than what you’re thinking,” I said. “It’s complicated. I was with them last night, and it’s not some kind of sleazy affair. They’re dating. They’re a couple.”

“Really, Yeji? Is that what’s going on?” said Jisu. “A little puppy love? I will remind you that you’re far from blameless in this whole fiasco. There’s such a thing as a lie by omission.”

“Fiasco?” said Ryujin.

“You’re her roommate, Yeji,” said Chaeryeong. “You expect us to believe you didn’t notice her nighttime excursions?”

“I noticed,” I said. “But I figured, you know, it wasn’t any of my business. I think that’s a pretty natural thought to have.”

“Your business?” said Jisu. “Your business? I’m really beginning to think we have fundamentally different beliefs about what exactly it is that we do. I don’t know if you’ve suddenly forgotten about the last decade of our lives, but we’re  _ idols,  _ Yeji. Does that mean anything to you? Do you know what that means?”

“I’m an idol second and a human fucking being first,” said Ryujin.

“That is a drastic oversimplification,” said Jisu. “There are consequences to your actions, and I don’t want to become some kind of national pariah because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“You’ve always been so fucking dramatic,” said Ryujin. She stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “I should’ve said something. Communication is very important. But, really, if you knew what it was really like, I think you wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“It’s the lying, Yeji,” said Chaeryeong. “I can’t stand when people are so… opaque.”

“Anyway,” said Jisu. “I’m kind of sick of talking about it. And I don’t exactly blame you, Yeji.”

#

I lay on my bed with the lights turned off and squeezed my eyes shut hard enough to see strange geometries dance against the blackness. I tried to access that part of my brain that operated without my knowledge. The part that performed the basic functions of my body. The part that never complained, that just simply did. I couldn’t reach it.

My family was torn apart because of a reluctance to confront. My mom and dad never said more than a sentence at a time to each other when they were together. They hated each other, and they thought the other didn’t share that hatred.

And as such, I’ve never been good with it. The confrontation. The explosion of information, of hidden beliefs revealed. I felt overloaded and overwhelmed and overworked. 

How easy ignorance was. Such a shame that it was impossible.

Ryujin hadn’t returned since the intervention. Nor had she responded to any of my numerous texts or calls.

The sun had gone down long ago, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep without some kind of outside help. At first I considered more “self-pleasure”. I hadn’t completed my earlier attempt, after all. But I decided against it — for the first time in a while, I wasn’t in the mood.

I remembered the rattling orange bottle in Ryujin’s drawer. “To take at bedtime,” its label read. I stood up and fished it out and tapped a little white tablet into my hand. “May cause dizziness”. I swallowed it with saliva.

The front door opened with a creak and shut with a slam. I heard the whine of our TV turning on, then nothing. I crept out of my room and tiptoed toward the source of the sound — if it was some kind of invader then I was already dead, and better to go out with all the information than to have it come as a surprise. 

But it was just Ryujin, of course, spread fetally across the couch. The TV was turned to an empty channel, and its black and white flickering bounced around the room like an energetic child. I sat down next to her and put my hand on her foot, which was cold and sweating.

“You know,” she said. “I heard somewhere that static is partially made up of the, like, radiation from the big bang. But how am I supposed to know if that’s true? That could be a lie. I could be assigning all this importance to the static when it doesn’t matter at all.”

“Why would the scientists lie to us?”

“I don’t fucking know, Yeji.” She burst into tears. 

“Oh, Ryujin,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

“But everyone does. Everyone fucking lies. Truth is just a concept made up by politicians to make lying easier.”

“Are you mad at Yuna and them?”

“What? No. I don’t care about them.”

“Then what is it?”

“Hyo-jin broke up with me.”

“Wait, what?”

“He fucking dumped me today, Yeji. Can you believe that?”

“No, honestly. I thought he said he was, like, an ITZY superfan.”

“That’s the problem.”

“But wouldn’t getting with Shin Ryujin, global superstar, be, like, a dream come true for him.”

“He said it was more like a nightmare. Do you wanna know what he said? Can I tell you? He said, ‘I had this idea of you in my head from watching you dance and stuff, and I loved  _ that  _ Ryujin’.”

“He said that?”

“And he went on to say that when he was with me, when I was naked in front of him, he couldn’t bring himself to touch me because that would destroy the quote-unquote Ryujin in his head.”

“But you said—”

“I fucking lied, Yeji. I just wanted to make you jealous.”


End file.
